


into your arms

by phoneboook



Category: Lifeline (Video Game 2015)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gore, I kinda like it though, Mild Language, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Taylor has bad ptsd i guess?, Violence, i depict taylor as a guy btw, it can get a little uncomfortable if you dont like gore or idk super descriptive stuff, post trauma, sowwy, taylor needs comfort big time, tbh i feel like this is a gross story, the ending is kinda lighthearted tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 00:13:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoneboook/pseuds/phoneboook
Summary: taylor wakes up from a nightmare one night, only to find that you aren't there.





	into your arms

**Author's Note:**

> hi again friends!  
> its me back with another epic story..... which tbh is so unusual for me because i honestly felt like i wouldnt stick around here  
> all the support from my last story (which can be found on my profile if you havent read it yet!) really inspired me to write more for this boy........ i love taylor so much H  
> another quick note, i depict taylor as a guy -as mentioned in the tags- but if you have a problem with that, im sorry! im not trying to offend anyone, its just my preference to refer to him with a gender TwT''
> 
> also! this is kinda a continuation from my first story i guess? its just sort of written to fit my AU of what might happen if taylor ACTUALLY came home lmao am i right ladies but yeah like last time, if you get confused im more than happy to clarify anything from the story haha
> 
> uhhh just a friendly reminder, this story does get a little dark so if you feel uncomfortable at any time, dont pressure urself to keep reading folks!
> 
> anyways, enjoy the story!

Taylor had dozed off between the hours of ten and eleven. He hadn’t really meant to, but he was so unbelievably exhausted that it had happened without second thought. He’d fallen asleep to the news murmuring on TV; some report on something important, somewhere in the world. That hadn’t mattered to Taylor at the time, though. Initially, he had been waiting for you to arrive home from work. It wasn't unusual for you to be working so late, but often there were times where you would get so caught up with a task that you'd lose track of time. He didn’t like it when that happened.

In fact, he dreaded those nights.

You had a curfew; to be home by 1 am at the latest. Usually, he would expertly stay up waiting for you, occupying himself with work of his own. Around 12:50 am, you would arrive home. Silently, you would open the door, your keys jingling quietly as you stepped inside. There he would be. Waiting patiently with a warm, longing smile plastered on his face. He would wrap you up in a warm embrace, press his face into the crook of your neck and hold you close. After that, there would be a five minute report about your day and occasionally the entertaining story. Then the two of you would bid your good-nights and move to your separate rooms. You had purposely assigned him the room next to yours, had he ever had a nightmare and needed company.

On the rare nights that he  _would_ come into your room, his demeanour akin to a child awoken by their night terrors, he would shuffle close beside you on your bed and hold you. Hold you for a sense of sanity. Hold you so he knew that he wasn't alone.

To be perfectly honest though, you weren’t entirely sure if he was comfortable sharing a bed with you. You’d certainly presented him with that option, and he would often accept it after a nightmare, but the two of you weren’t dating, so you were never sure. Though, the feelings were definitely there, and definitely mutual; you both had an interest in each other, but you had decided together that you would further develop the relationship and see where it took you both. It was logical, but sometimes you really wished that there was more there. Often you had longed for his touch, and naturally, it was a feeling any rational person would experience. But for some reason, you couldn’t help feeling selfish wanting that from him.

Taylor, more often than not, felt like that too. Sure, holding you seemed more than enough for him, but he felt like he was missing... _something._  Sometimes he wished he could find the words to explain just how incredibly happy he was because of you. How undeniably grateful he was to still be alive. He could be direct whenever he needed to, yet when it came to doing something as easy as saying "thank you", he never knew how best to say it. He wanted to tell you so many things, but no matter how hard he tried, he could never muster up the courage to. For the time being, he was satisfied. One day he'd find a way to express his gratitude. For now, all he needed was a companion. Someone to be there for him. His time spent with you was enough. He felt safe around you, and he didn’t ever want that feeling to leave.

But he had fallen asleep, and the vow of safety was ripped straight from him.

It began as something harmless. A simple dream, more or less. You were there and so was he. The setting was what was odd... and distracting. Most of his dreams occurred in outer space, but it would only ever be him— alone. He’d never experienced a dream where he was in space with you there too.

 

*****

 

_Taylor found himself lying flat on his stomach on an all too familiar hard and dusty surface. 31U00W, the desert moon. Above him stood his lifeline. Y/n. You were giggling at him; he had tripped over and fallen, but he couldn’t seem to recall. He only felt the uncomfortable buzz of blunt pain that lingered throughout his body._

_Their surroundings were vast, but everything was shrouded in a dark haze. The ground was illuminated in a vivid verdant, yet he couldn’t pinpoint the light source. You had reached your out hand in attempt to help Taylor back up on his feet. Hesitantly he complied, and found himself standing. How the both of you had ended up here astounded him._

_How_ **_had_ ** _they gotten here?_

_There was a moment when Taylor turned away from_ _you and observed his surroundings. The minute he peeled his eyes away from you though, was the minute you disappeared. He hadn’t noticed at first; he was almost too focused on looking for the one peak he’d grown to despise. This time, no matter how hard he looked, it was too hazy to see a thing. The peak was hidden, and any other source of “safety” was gone too._

_When Taylor turned back to face you, only to find that you_ **_weren’t_ ** _there, he panicked. His mind rushed to the first and only conclusion he could think of._

_The Greens._

_As if being controlled by a force that wasn't his own, he found himself running. Running in whatever direction his gut instinct told him. He had to find the peak. Without a moments hesitation, there from the mist appeared what he was hoping to see. The faint, green glow of an artificial heap of rock._

_He was nearing the peak quickly. Quicker than what it may have been in real time. He couldn’t let the Greens get to you. If they occupied you, they may as well have occupied him too._

_Taylor was heaving. Running out of breath. He had to keep going, but something was pulling against him, making it difficult to move with haste. Perhaps it was the weight of despair. Knowing the Greens, they had probably already found you. And then he would be left alone again. He scowled at the unwanted thought._

_Almost as if it had been scripted, he spotted you a few yards away from the peak. Immediately, Taylor sensed that there was something wrong. You were lying on the ground,_ _facing away from him. Even though it was dark, he could see the outline of your body, curled up against the ground. His running came to a slow, then an abrupt halt as he reached you._ _The first thing he noticed was the disgusting stench of a rotting body. He dropped to his knees. Surely it couldn’t be you... right?_

_He was breathing heavy now, heart thumping in his throat. He felt his stomach swell and bile rise up his oesophagus. It didn’t taste half as bad as the smell that abused his nostrils._

_He swallowed nervously, trying to fight back the urge to vomit up stomach acid. He placed his hand on your shoulder and gasped. It was cold, almost_ **_too_ ** _cold._

_What he was met with next was the most disturbing and horrid thing he thought he’d ever seen. Your head had slumped over, along with the upper half of your body, to face him. Your eyes were open, showing no signs of life. Your mouth was agape and there was a sickly green saliva trail seeping out from the sides. Your face was covered almost completely in blood, barely any flesh covering the surface. It looked as if your face had been burnt to cinders._

_He gulped and forced himself to observe the rest of you. Your neck had deep gashes along either side. Your collarbone looked to be broken and was protruding from your flesh. Your clothes were ripped almost to shreds. There was an abnormally large hole delving into the depths of your stomach. Your intestines seemed to overflow and spill out from the wound._

_What perturbed him the most was that there was hardly any blood._

_Yes, your body had been ripped to shreds, and it was unbelievably unsettling and disgusting. But somehow there was barely any trace of blood, asides from your almost unrecognisable face._

_He shuffled away immediately. He felt so fucking sick. He gagged, began to cry, and let his guts spill. He hacked and coughed, his throat burning at the painful release of bile and acid. He sobbed, his hands gripping at the dusty ground. He couldn't be left alone. Not again. God, **please** not again. He just wanted to die. He didn't want to have to live with the image of your mangled body burned into his mind._

_He was willing to accept his fate more than ever. He longed for a Green to occupy him and let him forget about this. About everything._

_He heard something shuffle behind him. Then there was a hand on his shoulder, gripping it with too much force. He winced and forced himself to look back._

_It was you._

_You were there, flashing a sickly disturbing smile at him. You were saying things, but the words didn’t hit his ears. He stared, frightened like a deer in the headlights. Your face was nauseating. Your eyes were what was more unsettling. They were the same colour as the green saliva he’d seen foaming out of your mouth. The same colour of anyone who was occupied. The colour of the Greens._

_He could only muster a whimper. He knew what was going to come next. His eyes shut closed tightly, anticipating for the next move, and started to cry again. He was yelling something along the lines of “I don’t want to die” so loud that it was burning his throat raw._

_After seeing your disfigured body, he wanted nothing more than to die. He never wanted to see something like that again. But now that it was really happening, he was panicking. He didn’t want to die. He didn't want a small, green alien living inside him, controlling his every move. He just wanted to go home._

_There was a soothing voice that washed over him momentarily. A voice he recognised; a voice he loved. The voice called his name softly, reassuring him. His eyes opened slowly and he was met with the familiar,_ **_normal_ ** _face of you. You started giggling at him again, your hand cupping his cheek._

_He was confused, but he didn’t want this moment to end. He found himself caught up in your comforting gaze._

_He’d felt something oddly shaped and wet slip into his mouth, but he paid no mind to it._

_Your eyes had returned to their natural colour, the flesh on your face was mended. Everything about you was okay now. Normal. He hadn't lost you after all. So why did he still feel like something was wrong?_

_You were still giggling. Your hand covered your mouth in attempt to shield the noise from Taylor's ears._

_It was starting to frustrate him. What was so damn funny that was making you laugh so much? Something inside him snapped suddenly. His eyes burned a deep shade of green. There was a foul taste in his mouth. He didn’t feel like himself anymore. He grabbed you by your throat and slammed you against the ground a little too harshly. He felt something break under his strain, but he only held on tighter. He wanted you to shut the **fuck** up. He started ripping at your throat. Searching for your vocal cords. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP._

_He stopped. You’d ceased making that awful noise. In fact, you had stopped a long time ago._

_He looked down at his mess._

_Only then did his sanity return. The realisation of what he’d just done hit him. He felt a scream rip out of his already tender throat. Your body had somehow returned to the state in which Taylor had originally found you. The state he had found it in before he had been occupied._

_This time he forced himself to puke. He had to get that... that_ **_thing_ ** _out of him. It was easier than he thought. It hurt like shit, though. He hacked and spat the small creature out of his mouth and watched it scurry away. He bit down harshly on his lip, restraining another scream. It spluttered into a pained grunt and he screwed his eyes shut tight. He gripped at the sides of his head and started tugging at his hair. He was petrified. He was angry. His throat hurt. He had an awful taste lingering in his mouth. He had just killed you._

_Seconds later, he felt himself being tackled to the ground. Surprised at the sudden blow, he let out an echoed yelp as his back came in contact with the hard surface below him. He looked up, vision wavering for a moment. It was you again. Somehow. Your eyes were glowing with a newfound ferocity now. Your hand had secured its way around Taylor's neck, holding it tightly. Cutting off the circulation of air. He started gagging, his hands flinging to grapple at your hands. His legs were squirming against the ground below him, dust flying around the two bodies. He struggled beneath you, putting up a fight in attempt to throw you off him. You were so much stronger than he was. He sucked in for breath. His face was beginning to grow purple. His vision was faltering. His vigorous struggle was growing weaker with each passing moment._

_He couldn’t manage another gasp for breath. His body was slackening. His eyes grew heavy. Spit was foaming around his mouth. It was a disgusting sight for anyone to see._

_You were saying things, but the words didn’t hit his ears. With his final ounce of strength, he directed his focus to your lips and read._

_"We're coming back for you, Taylor. We're on our way to Earth. Say goodbye to your precious lifeline and anyone you've ever loved_ _. It's time for you to suffer one last time."_

_With the last remaining moments he had, he observed your undecipherable expression. Then, he vanished._

 

_*****_

 

Taylor shot up, inhaling loudly as his eyes snapped open. His forehead was beaded with sweat. He ran a hand through his hair, only to find it soaked with warm moisture. He was panting heavily, his heart thumping in his ears. It was deafening. His hand snaked up to his throat instinctively, touching it lightly to check if it was still intact.

What... What did he just dream about...?

He looked around, only to find that he was still on the couch, a new program than before prattling on TV in the background. You were nowhere in sight. His wild eyes searched for his phone, for at least an indication of the time. 1:50 am. His breath hitched in his throat and he gripped at his chest. Panic immobilised him for a moment.

_Why weren't you home yet?_

The sudden thought of his nightmare hit him. It was still fresh; still vivid in his mind. And he couldn’t wipe the vision of your mutilated body no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't wipe the memory of the last thing you had said to him. He couldn’t forget what  _he’d_  done to you either. He hated how surreal it felt.

Was it a warning of some sort? Were the Greens really on their way to Earth?

His heart lurched to his throat at the thought. If his heart could rip out of his body, it would have already happened by now. He felt tears well up in his eyes. He cradled his head in his hands and hunched over himself on the couch. He stared at the floor, breathing heavily. His body felt warm, goosebumps prickling up his arms. He felt on edge; even the hot tear that slid down his cheek frightened him. He was paralysed with fear, the pressure of the nightmare forcing his body to sink into the cushion below him. After a moment of panic, Taylor blinked and tugged at his hair painfully. He needed to calm himself down. With an impressive amount of sheer willpower, Taylor let out a pained grunt and pushed his thoughts elsewhere, running through the steps to calm himself down after a nightmare. Each time he thought he was okay though, he would think of you and start to panic again.

He stood up and started pacing back and forth the room. He was biting his fingernails nervously, his shoulders slouched over into a vulnerable position. Every so often he’d wipe away tears that trickled down his face. He wanted you to come home so badly. He hated that he was alone. He hated that the last thing he'd remembered from the nightmare was the message from the Greens. He didn't want to believe it, but after everything he'd experienced, it could have been as plausible as anything else. He thought about you again. In his last moments. When he'd practically tore apart your throat. He gulped and squeezed his eyes shut at the unwanted thought. He wasn’t even sure if he could face you now.

As if on cue, the sound of keys unlocking a door echoed throughout the room. Taylor shot up from his slouched position and stared toward the source of sound with wide eyes. Seconds later, the door opened and there you stood in the doorway, alive and well. You had already started your apology about arriving home later than "curfew" but you cut yourself off halfway at the sight of Taylor.

Taylor let out a relieved, yet panicked gasp and rushed toward you. He hadn’t even given you the chance to set your things down and he had already tackled you into a tight hug.

You sensed there was something wrong right away. For starters, when you came home, he would never act so tenacious. Not only that but he had been pacing around the room when you’d opened the door, and his alarmed expression was enough to tell you he was not okay. He was panting heavily into your ear, the warmth of his breath tickling against your neck. He was trembling and holding onto you too tightly; more tight than what would be comfortable. You winced a little yet returned the hug, your hand rubbing his back up and down soothingly. It wasn't hard to deduce that he'd had a nightmare.

As difficult as it was, you had to pull away from the hug. It was beginning to feel too tight, too uncomfortable. As your grip slackened, Taylor let out a whimper and grasped you tighter. He didn't want to let go. He wanted to reassure himself that you were real; that he wasn't going insane. So you stayed. You knew how much he needed you—it was selfish that you had even had the thought to pull away in the first place. You repositioned your hand to cradle his head, your fingers drifting through the locks of his hair. 

A moment passed and Taylor finally let go of you. His hands remained resting on either side of your hips as he gazed down at you, expressionless. At further glance, Taylor didn't look so well. His face was pale, his eyes were bloodshot and dried tears had caked down his cheeks. His hair was dishevelled—in fact, _everything_ about him looked that way. He honestly looked as if he'd pass out at any second. He was so spaced out; so exhausted. Deciding that he definitely needed to sit down, you took his hands and pulled him gently over to the couch, sitting him down. Joining beside him, you held out your arms and let him fall into them.

Perhaps for now he needed to be alone in his thoughts. And maybe it would be like that for the rest of the night. You didn't have to ask to know that the nightmare was about you; it was obvious that it was. So you stayed there. The sound of your heartbeat was enough to calm Taylor, at least, for now. He blinked tiredly as he fiddled with a piece of twine that stuck out from your clothes. You knew at a time like this, all Taylor needed was something to hold onto; the reassurance of another person beside him. He knew you cared, he knew you wouldn't leave. Sure, just minutes ago, Taylor had had one of the worst breakdowns he'd experienced in a while. He had been so frightened up until the point that he was practically numb. When you walked through the door, he couldn't even explain how alleviated he felt; how glad he was to see you again. 

As Taylor rested against you, the burden of sleep shrouded his mind. He could feel his eyelids growing heavy, battling with the woozy feeling of resisting to close them. Reluctantly, he let sleep capture his weary, tormented mind. He nestled his head into the comfort of your warm body and started to drift into an averse slumber.

With you next to him; _holding_ him, he felt at peace. Maybe he would sleep a little easier now, knowing you were there. He always did. With his last ounce of consciousness, he heavily pried open his eyes to look at you. His vision was unfocused; he could barely make out your face. Yet, with the little strength he had, he forced himself to speak.

"(Y/N)?" He whispered, voice croaky. It was the first thing he'd said since you'd returned home. You looked down at him drowsily. You had to admit, you were growing somnolent yourself.

"Mm?"

There was a moments silence, then;

"Thank you."

And with one final smile, he surrendered and allowed sleep to confine him once more. 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed this just as much as i enjoyed writing it~  
> again, feedback, comments and kudos are much appreciated! all your nice words make me feel really good (o w o)
> 
> feel free to follow me on other social media too!  
> IG @phoneboook || tumblr @hawaiiparttwo || twitter @irlsasaki


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